Mrs. Locke's voice reached Lucian and brought him to the present.
"Young Master... are you all right?"
He blinked, dragging himself back to reality from the depths of his thoughts. The candlelight became steady and the warm, expectant eyes of the Mrs. Locke fixed on him.
"I'm fine," Lucian answered softly, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Just lost in thought."
Mrs. Locke, reassured but still curious, tilted her head.
"Then tell me, what is this pudding you spoke of earlier? You made it sound like something wonderful. How does one make it?"
Lucian drew a slow and heavy breath. He had expected the question from the start, and now there was no way around it. "It's a simple milk-based dessert," he began, his tone calm and steady, "made with milk, sugar, and egg. The process isn't too complicated. You take milk, egg yolks, and sugar, mix them together, and then cook it gently until it thickens. In small containers, you place sugar and heat it until it melts and turns brown this becomes a caramel base. Then, you pour the milk mixture over it, let it cool, and soon it is ready to serve."
He paused briefly, watching the eyes of everyone around the table who was fascinated by it. "It doesn't cost much to make, and everyone can enjoy it. Fruits can be added as well for a sweeter touch. It's quick, simple, and refreshing."
The air in the room shifted. What had been a simple, casual discussion moments ago now had filled with quiet excitement. Magnus leaned forward, interest flickering across his usually composed face. Mr. Locke nodded slowly, already envisioning it on his menu. And Mrs. Locke clasped her hands together, her smile broadening.
"I knew it!" she said with delight. "It sounds perfect. Something new, yet simple. Our customers will love it."
Even Edris' stern demeanor softened, though only slightly. "Indeed, it is an idea worth trying."
But then, as the moment stretched, his gaze sharpened, turning toward Lucian like the edge of a blade. His voice cut through the warmth, calm yet probing.
"Young Master, your idea is clever... but how did you come across such a recipe? You haven't been outside these walls in a long time."
Lucian had been waiting for this. He had rehearsed his answer many times in the back of his mind while describing the pudding. Now he met Edris' gaze without flinching.
"Sir Edris, you know well that when merchants and travelers from outside comes here, my brother would sometimes ask them to share tales of their journey with me," Lucian said evenly. "It was during one of those times that I heard of this recipe. It was unusual, so I remembered it."
Edris studied him for a long moment. The weight of his stare pressed heavily, testing, measuring every inch of Lucian face.
At last, he gave a slow nod. "Hmph. You were always curious about the outside world when you were bedridden. I recall Master Julian asking travelers to tell you stories to keep your spirits up. Perhaps that's when you heard of it." Though his tone still carried doubt, he let the matter rest. For now.
The tension broke with Mrs. Locke's eager voice. "Oh, enough of the questions. Let us see this recipe for ourselves! We should try making it right away."
Lucian's eyes widened. "Right now?"
"Yes, of course!" she replied, already half-rising from her chair. "That way, you can tell us if we're doing it right or not. I'll fetch the ingredients."
She bustled off toward the kitchen before anyone could protest.
Mr. Locke groaned quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I apologize, Young Master Lucian. My wife can be... overbearing sometimes." His flustered expression betrayed both affection and helplessness.
Lucian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "There's no need to apologize. She simply feels inspired. It's good to see such excitement."
Magnus leaned forward with a smirk. "Well, then. Shall we see what sort of chaos awaits in the kitchen?
Together they rose, following the trail of Mrs. Locke's hurried footsteps.
The kitchen has become alive with motion. Pots clattered, spoons scraped, and Mrs. Locke moved around with remarkable speed, gathering milk, eggs, and sugar with the precision of someone who had spent their whole life in this space. Despite Lucian's hesitant, somewhat vague instructions, she adapted quickly, her hands steady and sure.
Lucian watched, quietly impressed. She understands it instinctively, he thought. Even with little guidance, she reads the recipe as if she's known it her whole life.
After a few trials of sugar burning too dark, milk too thick the pudding finally took form. The golden-brown caramel gleamed at the bottom of the cups, the smooth custard layered above it, soft yet firm.
One by one, they tasted it.
Sweet. Silky. Delicate.
The room fell silent, broken only by the sound of spoons scraping gently against porcelain.
"Mhm... it's so sweet, and yet not heavy," Edris admitted, his stern face betraying rare satisfaction.
Magnus nodded approvingly. "Yes. This will surely be popular. People will come here just to try it."
"It is wonderful," Mr. Locke said, his voice warm with both pride and gratitude. "And it is thanks to you, Young Master Lucian."
Mrs. Locke, eyes shining, added, "We owe you for this gift."
Lucian raised his hands quickly. "What? No you don't owe me anything. I can't take money for this."
Edris snorted. "Do you think the Young Master is in need of money?"
But Mr. Locke shook his head firmly. "We understand your kindness, but we must insist. We will give you twenty-five percent of the profit from the sales of this pudding. You are a noble, Young Master. You will need money for many things in the future. It would not be right for you to rely on your sister each time you require something."
Lucian hesitated, unsure. Magnus added gently, "They're right. It will be good for you. Consider it not payment, but partnership."
Even Edris gave a reluctant nod.
In the end, Lucian relented. "Very well. I'll accept."
The Locks' smiles deepened, their resolve shining in their eyes.
By the time the group left the inn, night had stretched its dark cloak across the city. Lanterns flickered along the quiet streets, their glow faint against the heavy stillness. The three walked side by side, their footsteps hushed against cobblestone.
They slipped through the Oakheart estate's gates with the caution, hoping to reach their rooms unnoticed.
But fate was less merciful.
A single lamp burned in the hall, and beneath its glow stood Selene Oakheart, arms crossed, her gaze sharp enough to pierce armor.
All three of them froze. Magnus' composure faltered, and even Edris straightened instinctively.
"Care to explain," Selene said coldly, "why the three of you are returning so late?"
Lucian swallowed hard, forcing a sheepish smile. Slowly, carefully, he told her everything the dinner, the conversation, the pudding and the laughter in the kitchen.
Her frown lingered, suspicion and irritation still dancing across her face. But Lucian's earnest words, his quiet charm, and his pleading gaze eventually softened her anger.
"Hmph." Selene sighed at last, turning away. "Very well. But this is a warning. Next time, I won't be so lenient."
Relief swept all over the three like a wave.
Moments later, they slipped into their rooms, they have become exhausted with all the activity happened during the whole day. Lucian lay back in bed, the taste of pudding still fresh on his tongue, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself a quiet smile before closing his eyes and failing into the deep sleep.